Tantalus
by pellaz
Summary: Ten-year-old Blank finds a home with the thieving actor troupe. Anou... review, kudasai? ^^;


The streets of Lindblum were covered in darkness, only the occasional patch of cobble lit by the light of twin moons. The rich lay in their beds, content in the knowledge that tomorrow they would be warm and fed and alive, but deep in the underground were the ones whose life was not brightened by such certainty. They were the poor, the abandoned, the orphans. They were the teeming life of Lindblum. 

A young boy crouched in the shadows of a back alley, hands tightly clenched in the fabric of his worn shirt. He was painfully thin but not starving, not yet, and his crouch was that of a fighter, one who knew only he could protect himself from what lurked in the night. He would have been toned and muscular if he had had adequate food. As it were, he was a match for most anybody on the streets. 

The rapid tattoo of footsteps heralded someone's arrival, and the boy cringed, hoping that he hadn't been found by the beefy shopkeeper from whom he had stolen two loaves of bread. But the person stopped in the middle of the street, and there was a low whistle and a murmur of, "Blank!" 

Blank sighed in relief and stepped out from the shadows. "Koh," he greeted his friend, a younger, thinner boy with dirty blond hair and bright green eyes. Koh was younger than he, yes, but he was also one of the toughest fighters on the street, and Blank was glad to have won a secure friendship with him--Koh was ruthless to his enemies but unbelievably loyal to his allies, few and far between though they were. Blank clasped the blond's wiry arms, and Koh flashed him a brief smile. 

"Been busy today, Blank?" he drawled, eyeing the near-black bruise on the redhead's cheekbone. 

Blank fingered it sheepishly. "Didn't think that fatso shopkeeper could run so fast," he admitted. "Ch'. So much bread, doncha think he could share it a little?" 

"Anyone could share," Koh said somberly. "No one does." He shrugged. "That's why you and me's friends, Blank. We understand that, yeah?" 

"Yeah. You got anything?" 

Koh reached inside his shirt, too large for him and already too thin to protect from the pending cold of winter, and pulled out a bruised apple. "It ain't much," he said. "How's about you?" 

Blank held out the loaf of bread he had managed to keep. "This'll last us a while," he said. "That's good." 

"Yeah." Koh efficiently cut the apple into four pieces with his knife and handed Blank one of the pieces. "The other ones're for the kids I'm watchin' out for," he said, and Blank nodded, handing him half of the bread. Koh separated that, too, and stuffed two pieces into his shirt before eating the remainder. Blank didn't eat his; he would save it for another day, when there was no food to be had. He would stow it somewhere. He used to have numerous such stashes, but they were all gone now; food had been sparse lately. They were lucky to have gotten this much tonight. 

"It's a good night," Koh said, echoing his thoughts. The blond glanced up at the dark sky. "I think it's gonna rain, though." 

Blank glanced up too, noting the clouds forming. "Prob'ly," he agreed. "You gots a place where I can crash?" 

"Sure." Koh turned. "Follow me." 

They slept in a tiny, damp cellar that Koh proudly called "his place." It was full of rats, both dead and alive, but it provided shelter from the rain, and pressing himself against Koh's body provided warmth. When Blank awoke in the morning, though, he was cold, and Koh was gone. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and looked out the window. It was still drizzling, and the sky was a dark grey. It would rain more before the day was over. Blank climbed out of the cellar and breathed in the freshened air, temporarily free of the smell of Mist and airships. 

It was time to scavenge for breakfast. He snuck his way along the walls of houses, slowly heading towards the gyhsal pickles stand. It wasn't the best breakfast, but it was food, and Blank had to admit those pickles were awfully addictive. Koh said they were disgusting. To each their own, that was what Blank thought. 

The lady who ran the stand was talking to one of her grandchildren, and all of them were conveniently turned away from the stand. Blank crept up to it, moving painfully slowly though his stomach clenched in anticipation and his limbs screamed at him to hurry, and carefully, oh so carefully, reached out to snag a pickle. 

He had it firmly in his hands when a voice cried out, "THIEF!" 

His reaction was instinctive--he shoved the pickle into his mouth and set off at a sprint. One of the shopkeeper's grandsons, a young, athletic boy who had the advantage of not being half-starved, ran after him, screaming at him to stop. Blank gave him the finger and veered sharply into a back alley, gritting his teeth when the boy followed. 

"Stop!" the boy yelled, his voice breathless. Blank made another turn, heading into the real alleys, where most of the street children lived. It was the poorest section of Lindblum; the streets were dirty with mud, and the stench of death and the dying could choke one who was not used to it. As he'd predicted, the boy fell back, and eventually turned around, swearing all the while. 

Blank wiped off the juice dribbling down his chin and slowed down to a walk. All around him, wide-eyed, thin children stared at him enviously. Coming this way had a cost, and it was something he didn't do often; there were those who would kill him if they believed he had food, and at the very least beat him to a pulp if they saw that he didn't. So he retreated to the shadows and began to make his way back into his section of town as it began to rain heavily. 

"Hey, you!" 

He quickened his pace. 

"Hey, red! We said stop!" 

He stopped and turned around, his stomach clenching with fear when he saw four angry-looking boys surrounding him. They were thinner than him but every bit as tough--and they were hungry. It was a fearful combination, and Blank began to admit that it would have been better to have been caught by the shopkeeper's son than by this gang. 

One of the boys, the tallest and obviously the leader, stepped up to him. It was a gross invasion of body space, the boy standing so near to him that Blank could feel his hot breath on his face. "Hey, sumbitch," the boy snarled. "Think yous can get away with fucking _eating_ down here while we go fuckin' hungry? Huh? Answer me, you fuck!" 

Blank stared coldly at him. 

"Piece of shit," the boy said. "Think yous better than us, huh? Fuck you." He punched Blank in the gut, so quickly Blank could hardly tell that was what had happened. But as soon as the first blow had been landed, the other three jumped in, punching him until he fell, and even then kicking and spitting on him. His mind began to go black; the only thing he could register was the rain falling on his face, and the dark clouds above him. 

"Hey, motherfuckers! Stop pickin' on him and come meet me man-to-man, huh?!" 

The kicking stopped. Blank rolled over, groaning, until he could see his savior, and his heart plummeted. Koh stood a short distance away from them, his petite form tense with anger, fists clenched, eyes blazing. "Koh...." Blank groaned. 

"Shut the fuck up, Blank," Koh called to him. He glared at the leader of the boys. "_You're_ the piece of shit," he growled. "Go out and get yous own fuckin' food, you got me?" 

"Fuck that!" The boy was enraged. He advanced toward Koh. 

Blank's eyes widened. "Koh!" he called out, but it was too late. 

The boy had the knife out before Koh could even defend himself, and by the time Koh realized what was happening, it was buried in his chest. The young blond gasped, disbelief filming his eyes, and slowly collapsed to his knees, his murderer's grip on the knife the only thing keeping him up. 

"KOH!" Blank screamed. 

The boy gave a sharp twist of the knife. Koh gurgled, a thick trail of blood running from his mouth to his chin. He reached out with one hand, his eyes gazing frantically at something, and opened his mouth to speak. A strange sound, wet and gasping, came out of him instead. The boy pulled the knife out and Koh collapsed to the ground. A pool of blood formed around his body. 

"Koh!" Blank screamed again, standing up on shaky, adrenaline-charged knees. "Oh God, oh God, oh fuck!" 

A red haze of anger descended on him. He lunged on the boy, ignoring his startled yell, and knocked him to the ground, straddling his bucking body as best he could. Anger gave him strength he had never had before, and he forced the hand holding the knife to the ground, kneeing the boy in the groin. The boy groaned, and his grip on the knife weakened. Blank yanked it out of his hand and, quick as thought, drove it into his eye. The boy's death wasn't as drawn out as Koh's; he twitched, once, twice, and was gone. 

Blank rocked back on his heels. He left the knife there, pressing his hands to his face. His breathing became ragged when he realized there was blood on them. He looked over slowly and saw the other boys staring at him fearfully. Then they ran off. That was okay. He didn't want to kill them anyways. 

Blank crawled over in the mud to Koh's body. He turned it over and drew in a sobbing gasp when he saw that the light had gone out of Koh's eyes. His mouth was open, spittle and blood clinging to his chin. His chest didn't move. Blank cradled him to his chest. Rain fell on his head, on his hands, on Koh's body, and slowly washed all the blood away. 

  
  


Blank crouched on the roof of a building, his knife clenched in his mouth, surveying the pedestrians as they scurried below him. His eyes lit on a passerby and narrowed calculatingly. The man was big, obviously well-fed, dressed in average clothing. He had money, but not enough so that they would hunt Blank down if he robbed him. They only did that for nobles. Blank hopped off the roof and began following the man. 

The man was a doofus, he decided, and probably wouldn't notice if he picked his pocket. In the year since Koh's death, Blank had progressed from stealing food to stealing money--it worked much better, and he got _more_ food that way. This guy would be easy pickings. Blank slid behind a woman, then fluidly stepped forward and, without even breaking his stride, neatly grabbed the man's wallet as he stepped past. He allowed himself a glance backward and smirked. The man was oblivious. Score one, Blank. He slipped into the alley and opened the wallet. 

His mouth went slack with shock. He turned the wallet upside down and shook it, just to be sure--but yes, it was empty. Blank tightened his jaw and threw the wallet to the ground, kicking it angrily. Fuck! There went his breakfast! 

"Thought you could pick my pocket, brat?" 

Blank froze, then shook himself and turned around. The owner of the wallet was blocking one end of the alley, lounding on the wall with an infuriating smirk on his face. Blank shook his head and turned the other way, intending to outrun him--then froze when he saw that that exit, too, was blocked by a short but muscular, mean-looking guy with a pirate motif. Blank swallowed and turned back to face the man, who was walking toward him. 

"If you're going to beat me or kill me," Blank hissed, "get it over with, will ya, Pops?" 

The man looked surprised, then threw back his head and guffawed loudly. Blank stiffened. The man dared to _laugh_ at him? Fuck! What a way to go! 

The man calmed down and said, still chuckling, "What do you think I am, a murderer? I don't kill little children. Adults, maybe, but not pathetic little pickpockets." 

"If you're not going to kill me, what the hell do you want?" Blank demanded. 

The man--donkey-man, Blank decided, for he did have something resembling donkey ears sticking out of his cap--shrugged. "How old're you, boy?" 

Realization dawned upon Blank, and he felt the blood rushing from his face. "You're going to rape me." 

The donkey-man rolled his eyes. "Hell, stop assumin' I'm going to brutalize you and tell me how old you are already." 

"I'm ten," Blank muttered. 

"Hmm." The donkey-man rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then snapped his fingers. Dutifully, the pirate went to his side. Blank knew that they had left him a path of escape, but also knew that they would _somehow_ catch him if he rose to the bait. So he stood still. "Whaddaya think, Marcus?" the donkey-man asked, scratching his head. "He's about the right age...." 

Marcus shrugged noncomittally. "I think you've already made up your mind, Boss." 

The donkey-man guffawed again. "Damn, you know me too well already! What's your name, kid?" 

"Blank." 

"Well, Blank, how would you feel about coming with us and being fed and clothed every day?" the donkey-man said. 

Blank narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell _are_ you?" 

"I'm Baku," the donkey-man said. "Not that you'll be callin' me that. From now on, if you join up, I'll be Boss to you. I'm the leader of Tantalus, a troupe of actors--" 

"Ch'," Blank spat. "I'm not some pansy actor. Forget it." 

"--And thieves," Baku finished, crossing his arms. He raised an eyebrow. "We're one of the most notorious thieving groups around, boy. 'M surprised ya haven't heard of us. Well, anyways. We don't let wussies in here. You seem pretty tough. There's warrants out for all of my men, even my youngest, so we're not just some 'pansy actor' group. Whaddaya say, huh?" 

Blank shook his head, his resolve beginning to falter. "Why the hell would you want me?" 

"I almost--_almost_--didn't notice you picking my pocket," Baku shrugged. "You've got quick fingers. I look for quick fingers. And like I said, you seem pretty tough." 

"You'll be treated fairly," Marcus put in. His voice was a deep, slow baritone; he seemed bored. "Everyone in Tantalus are brothers. We look out for each other." 

_The last time someone 'looked out' for me, they got killed._ Blank shrugged. "I can't act." 

Baku rolled his eyes. "You'll learn. Yes or no?" 

He'd never put his life in anyone's hands like this before. Blank was well aware that this could be a trap; Baku could be luring him so that he could arrest him and see him hanged, or something. But.... he was going to die anways. Why not now? "Sure," Blank said. 

Tantalus's Lindblum hideout was none too impressive, but it was more than Blank had ever been in, and he had to fight to keep himself from showing his pleasure as Baku told him he could pick a bed and bunk there until they left Lindblum--which would be soon, apparently. "And take a bath sometime," Baku grumbled. "You stink like a pig." 

Blank fought down the instinctive insult and merely sat on one of the beds. He'd never slept on a bed; at least, not that he could remember. "This is Tantalus?" he asked skeptically. "You, me, and the pirate?" 

"Marcus," said the pirate from across the room. 

"Nope, this ain't all of us," Baku said. "Me and Marcus are here on business. The others are in Alexandria, which is where we're headed after we get done here." 

"Let me guess," Blank said. "You're stealing something, right?" 

"Right," Baku said. "Now shut up and take a bath." 

They were in Lindblum four more days before Baku had them haul out. It took another two days to get to Alexandria, and by the time they arrived at the city gates, Blank thought he would faint. 

"You're malnourished," Baku said, holding on roughly to his upper arm lest he should fall. "You'll be able to keep up with us once you've gained a little weight and muscle." 

"For now," Marcus added, "we're almost to our Alexandrian hideout." 

"Great," Blank sighed. 

Blank, exhausted though he was, was fascinated by Alexandria. It was a bright, cheerful city, and had none of Lindblum's artificiality; there were no airships, cars, or Mist. The people smiled and called out greetings as they walked past. Even in the alley which Baku led them to, there were no beggars or thieves. 

"Alexandria is ruled by Queen Brahne," Baku informed him. "She's a pretty good queen, as you can see. Her daughter's just a year younger than you are." 

"She's _his_ age, huh?" Marcus spoke up. 

"Yeah." Baku got a thoughtful look on his face. "Just barely. He's a little younger'n her, I think." 

"Who?" Blank demanded. 

"One of my boys," Baku told him. "You'll meet him when we get to the hideout, if he hasn't wandered off, stupid brat. C'mon, let's get movin'." 

"Yeah, Ruby'll be mad if we're late," Marcus said. 

Blank didn't bother asking who Ruby was. 

Baku led them down to the end of one alley and down a set of stairs to a shady little underground bar-type place. It was filled with meandering people, adults and children, and Blank swallowed nervously. He'd never been around so many people in one place in his entire life. 

"Boss!" A young girl, older than Blank himself, ran up to them. She was well-fed, he noted immediately, and pretty, probably in her teens and just gaining womanly curves and features. Her hair was a pale silverish-blue color and her face was painted with makeup. "I swear, you are late _again_! I dunno _why_ I put up with yew...." Her strong accent took him by surprise. He'd never heard anyone speak like that. 

"Ruby," Baku said, "we've got ourselves a new member. Blank, this is Ruby." 

Ruby peered closely at him. "My, you are _thin_, sweetheart! Would that I was that thin!" She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. 

"Where is everybody?" Marcus wondered. 

"We~ell...." She hesitated. 

"Spit it out," Baku said. 

"Cinna went out for some food...." she finally said. 

Baku cursed. "%$#%%#$! I told him to keep his fat ass in here till I got back! Damn him...." 

"Aw, don't git mad, Boss," Ruby wheedled. "He just got hungry, 's'all." 

"Yeah, that's all it ever is with him," Baku said. "That bastard's always got food on the brain. Che." He looked around and scowled. "Where the hell's Zidane?" 

"I dunno...." Baku glared at her, and Ruby held up her hands. "C'mon, boss, yew know he gets bored easily. He went out to the shops a while ago." 

"Hope he gets his stupid ass robbed," Baku grumbled. He turned to Marcus. "Marcus, bunk Blank with Zidane, wouldja? They're the same age and all." 

Marcus nodded, and Baku stormed off. 

"Well, sugars," Ruby said cheerfully, "I gotta entertain the customers. See ya later." She blew them a kiss and walked into the crowd, swinging her hips. 

Blank rolled his eyes. 

"C'mon," Marcus said, grinning ever so slightly. "I'll show you your room." 

He led him to the back of the bar and down a hall, where there were four doors. He opened the first one on the left. "This's Zidane's room," Marcus said. Blank peeked in and his mouth formed an 'O.' He'd never seen such a great room, not even back in Lindblum--there were two beds, one which was messy and rumpled and piled with junk. It was dim and slightly cold, but he could handle that. "Zidane's the boss's adopted kid. He's a year younger than you." He shrugged. "You'll get along. Call me if you need anything, okay?" 

Blank nodded silently, still taking in the sight of the room. Marcus left, shutting the door behind him with a smile. 

_I died and went to heaven,_ Blank decided, sitting down gingerly on the clean bed. It adjusted to his weight and he bounced slightly, delighting in the feel of the mattress beneath him. He did this for a while until he got bored, then began investigating the room. 

It was stashed with little treasures here and there, which he looked at but didn't take--gil, mostly. It reminded him of the stashes of food he'd kept in Lindblum. Only this boy--had Marcus said he was Baku's adopted son?--probably hadn't ever gone hungry in his life. He snorted at the thought, disliking his roommate a little already, and went over to the other bed. 

Rumpled covers, some ads, and something that really caught his attention--knives. Knives of different lengths and width and sharpness; some with gold handles, some with silver, some with carving on the blade and some on the handles. Blank shook his head, amazed. He gingerly picked a small one up and turned it in his fingers. 

"That's called a dagger." 

Blank dropped the knife and whirled, instinctively stiffening for a fight. He almost gasped upon seeing the boy. He looked almost exactly like-- 

_flash of green eyes, sweet smile, blood on the cobblestones_

Like Koh. Same messy blond hair, same smiling face, same small--almost petite--stature... the only difference was that Koh's eyes had been green, and this boy's was a brilliant sapphire blue. 

Blank recovered himself and turned back around. "I knew that," he said. 

The boy walked over to the bed, standing beside him. He picked up the knife--dagger, whatever--Blank had been holding and took it in his hands like an expert. "I collect 'em," he said a bit sheepishly. "This one's one of my favorites. She's wicked in a fight." 

Blank glanced over at him, then did a double take. He had to look again to make sure his eyes weren't fooling him. "Y-you have a tail!" he said incredulously. 

The boy glanced behind himself. "Oh, yeah," he said nonchalantly. "I was born with it. I kinda forget it's there, sometimes." He turned to face Blank and held out a gloved hand. "My name's Zidane," he said. "You're the newbie, Blank, right? Pleased to meet you." 

Blank stared at the outstretched hand. After a few beats, he took it. "Whatever," he said, letting go quickly. 

Zidane grinned at him. "The boss says you've got quick fingers." He rubbed his thumb and index finger together. "That's cool. We've needed a new member." 

Blank shrugged. 

Zidane moved all the junk to one side of the bed and sat on the cleared space. He smiled again--Blank supposed he did that a lot. Most children he knew didn't smile, they snarled, or cried. "So..." Zidane said. "Where you from?" 

"Lindblum." Blank hesitated; idle chat wasn't his forte. "Are you from Alexandria?" 

"I'm from everywhere," Zidane said, laughingly thumping his chest, "where there's pretty ladies." 

Blank permitted himself a small smile at that. Skirt-chasers weren't rare where he came from. 

Zidane surveyed him with a practiced eye. "You've got good muscle tone," he noted approvingly, "even if you're a little thin. You got a weapon you use?" 

"Don't need one," Blank said. 

"With us you do," Zidane grinned. "We run into lots of monsters. Your fists won't do at all. I think you'd do well with a sword--ever use one?" 

"Where would a kid like me get a sword?" asked Blank irritably. 

"Don't hurt to ask." Zidane shrugged. "I'll get you one--that is, if you want one." He raised an eyebrow. 

Blank shrugged. "Whatever." 

"Yosh'!" Zidane hopped off the bed and twirled one of his knives. "I'm too wussy to use a sword," he said. "That's what the boss says, anyways. I think you'll do good if we get you the right one. Wanna come shoppin' with me?" 

Of course, when Blank agreed, Zidane quickly introduced him to his way of 'shopping,' which included going into the store, surveying the goods, and walking off with the best one as casually as you please. Blank's heart thumped in his chest as they left, but no one said anything; the sword was safely hidden, and thieves in Alexandria tended to be older, not kids like Zidane and him. 

"Shit," he said when they were safely in the back alley. "You're good." 

Zidane grinned and took out the sword, testing its weight. "This's a beauty," he said, not responding to Blank's reluctant approval. "Good metal. Someone spent a lot of time on this." He handed it to Blank. "It's yours now." 

Blank took it hesitantly. It was heavy. He swung it a few times, marveling at the graceful way it slashed through the air, wishing he had had something like this when he'd been starving. "Never had anything like this before," he mused. 

"Get used to it," Zidane said. "We in Tantalus take what we want. Of course, we pay occasionally. I just didn't have any money on me." He shrugged. 

"Why even bother?" Blank asked. "You just walked out with this. Why not do that all the time?" 

Zidane shrugged. "The boss doesn't want us to get too dependent on thieving," he said. "When I was little, he used to cuff me every time I'd steal when I had money on me. I don't know. It's just a thing of his, you know? You'll get used to him. He's quirky." He took Blank by the elbow and started guiding him back to the hideout. 

"How long have you been in--Tantalus, or whatever," Blank said, still absorbed in his new weapon. 

"I dunno." Zidane glanced at him, but Blank didn't notice. "Since I was real small. Five, maybe. The boss picked me up when I was four, but he didn't start Tantalus until I could talk." 

Blank shot him an incredulous look. "What? You couldn't talk until you were five?" 

"Hey!" Zidane said defensively. "You can't talk if no one teaches you, ya know." He kicked a stone in his path and was silent for a while; then he looked up at Blank, smile securely in place. "You seem like you need some more food," he said. "Ruby cooks a mean stupid soup. You should get some from her." 

"Stupid soup?" 

Zidane laughed. "Sorry. Just my nickname for something. A word of advice, never call it that in front of her! Man, does she have a temper...." 

"All girls have tempers," Blank said. This was true; he was very well acquainted with the ferocity of the female temperament. 

"Ruby's special," Zidane said. "She's got the temper and the know-how to kick your ass, as well." 

Blank smiled slightly. "You sound like you're pretty familiar with that...." 

"Hell yeah!" Zidane grimaced and rubbed his arms exaggeratedly. "I can't count the number of times she's given me bruises. Girls are psychos, man." 

"If they're psychos," Blank said, eyebrow raised, "how come you're such a lady's man, eh?" 

The color rose on Zidane's cheeks, and he gave an embarrassed, albeit unrepentant, shrug and laugh. "Hey, they're too pretty for me to resist, ya know?" He fell silent, then added, "Besides, all I'm aimin' for is the package under their skirts." He tossed Blank a lewd grin, ridiculous on his innocent-looking face. 

Blank laughed, startled. "You're only a kid!" 

"Never too early to start," said Zidane. "I live in perpetual hope." 

The rest of the way back to the hideout was spent in silence that Blank found, to his surprise, to be companionable. Zidane's easy-going manner, not to mention his almost uncanny resemblance to Koh, made it easy for Blank to like him, though all his of his hardened instincts told him not to give in so easily to this new life. And yet, these were people that Blank _knew_, because they were like him in a strange way. He could have a new life with these people. 

"Hey," Zidane said, "it's raining." 

Blank looked up. It was. The sky was a deep charcoal-gray color, and raindrops were just beginning to fall from thick hovering clouds, too small yet to make any impression, but the crack of thunder in the distance assured him that soon enough, the storm would gain force. It hadn't rained like this since that day a year ago. 

But this time, the rain wasn't washing away any blood. 

He glanced over at Zidane. The blond boy had his face upturned to the sky, lips turned up in an innocent, carefree smile. The same innocence that Koh had had, that no one or no circumstances could take away. 

Blank tilted his own head up to the sky, closed his eyes, and let the raindrops fall on his face. 

**Author's Notes (spoilerish)**

*grimaces* Gag me. This fic has such a horrible ending. I wanted to do a fic that started from Blank's initiation into Tantalus and followed on through to Zidane's 'death,' but quickly realized that I had neither the time nor the patience to do so. So, it turned into this little quickie. Hm. Must write yaoi about Blank and Zidane, nya ha (just read that _wonderful_ fic by Talya Firedancer-san, who is such a good writer!). *runs off* 

I really want to know what could've torn Blank up so bad that he'd be scarred like that.... O.o I had a weird thought, too. I was like, "Hey, that graft skin looks like Marcus's...." o_O That's just weird. *bonks self* I wonder where they got the skin from.... a dead body. Heh heh. Okay. I'll shut up now. 

Keruri.   
February 17 2001, 7:09 p.m. 


End file.
